The Alternative
by Last-Kiss-of-Damaris
Summary: A look at what could have happened during the mansion incident if Joseph had survived, and Brad had stayed behind.
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings: Language, and an overall abuse of the Capcom canon. Don't read if you get offended by alternate character deaths :p**

"Damnit, Joseph! What the hell!"

Joseph plucked the cigarette from out of his mouth, smirking coyly. "What?" he asked, his tone anything but oblivious. Brad strained his neck, glancing away from the forestry swimming before him and looking instead into the cockpit. "I told you already, no smoking! You could start a fire!" He ignored the hushed giggles (and Chris' surprisingly talented voice as he crooned a few lines from Billy Joel's political hit). "It's not funny. We could all die!" At this, Wesker seemed to rouse from his slumber at the far end (or maybe he had been awake all this time. Hard to tell with the shades), and grunted into his fist. "Put it out, Frost." Joseph frowned, but said nothing as he extinguished the butt beneath the steel toecap of his work-boots, much to Brad's dismay.

"Vickers!"

Brad resisted the urge to squawk in surprise. "Ye-yes, Captain?" he stammered. Wesker jabbed his finger forward, his mouth a thin, tired line. "Watch where you're going, or it'll be _you _that gets us all killed." Brad immediately turned back to the front. The heavy fog was starting to disperse, but it continued to grow darker the further into the mountains he took them. The fluttering in his stomach told him that something wasn't quite right with any of this, and despite the initial excitement about the mission, the mood in the cockpit was sombre.

A silence fell upon them. The constant whirring of the helicopter's propellers droned on. Brad tried to think of something to say to lighten the mood. He immediately dismissed the idea of telling a joke; it would only spur Joseph on to come up with some new and infantile way of ridiculing him. As he tried to think of something to talk about, he failed to notice the plume of smoke snaking its way up from between the gnarled, winter trees.

"Look!" it was Jill. "Do you see that?"

Brad turned to look out of his window. He strained his eyes, unable to see through the drizzle-clouded glass. Behind him the team had gathered around Jill's small frame, and were peering out into the forest themselves. Wesker tipped his shades down the bridge of his nose, sharp eyes glimmering despite the lack of light. He looked grim. They all did.

"What is it?" asked Brad, unable to see what they saw from his vantage at the front. He tried to strain his neck more to the left, but it only resulted in a sharp pain down his spine, so he quickly turned forward, grimacing as his bones tingled with the aftershocks. "What's down there? Should I find a place to land?" In his panic, he realised that he was starting to tremble, and his words were spilling forth without any thought. He did not need to look back to see that Joseph would be smirking as 'Chickenheart' made his first appearance of the night.

"Guys? What's going on?" insisted Brad, his voice hitting an octave higher when no immediate answer was forthcoming. He opened his mouth to ask-no, demand-a response, but before he could form the words, Jill spoke again. "It's smoke," she said, "it's coming up from the forest. It.. it might be Bravo's 'copter."

The silence descended upon them again. Brad tried not to think of what could have happened to the team, but it was hard to be positive when he recalled how suddenly their last transmission had ended. He gulped, doing his best to keep his hands steady upon the controls; the last thing they needed was for _their _chopper to go down and join Bravo's.

Through the drizzle, Brad spotted a clearing up ahead. It wasn't exactly a great spot to land, but considering that they were traversing a heavily forested mountain region, it was probably as good as it was going to get. He had yet to let the team down with his piloting ability, and he was damned if he was going to start now. Tilting the vehicle towards the location, Brad turned back to his team-mates, he locked eyes with Wesker. "I think I can land here, Captain." he announced, "It's not too far from-"

He couldn't quite bring himself to say 'the crash site'.

"-it's not too far from the smoke. Do you want me to set us down?"

Wesker offered a curt nod in response before turning back to look out the window. Barry had gone off to the very back of the cockpit, his figure bathed in shadow. As his broad shoulders shook, Brad wondered if the man was crying, but he immediately dismissed the idea; men like Barry Burton did not break down. He turned back in his seat, and began to take the 'copter down.

And as they descended, the nervous fluttering of butterflies settled again in Brad's stomach. This time, he could not dismiss the notion that there was something very wrong here.

As soon as the helicopter touched down, Wesker was at the door, pulling it open violently. A blast of cold, bitter air flooded the cockpit, stealing Alpha Team's surprised gasps before filtering back out into the trees. A low whining sound settled on the wind, and Brad shivered. He tried to see past the initial perimeter of trees, but beyond them there was only darkness. It made him uneasy; if something was out there watching him, he'd never know. He shuddered again and wrapped his thin arms around himself.

"Vickers, I want you and Frost to search the surrounding area."

Brad managed to suppress the urge to protest. Joseph, on the other hand, did not. In fact, he was quite animated about it. "What the hell?" he barked, jumping to his feet. Wesker gazed towards him, mouth taught and angry. Still, Joseph went on, "Why am I stuck with chickenshit? Keep him here; if there's any signs of trouble we can fall back on him. I don't want him slowing me down, or freaking out every five seconds!"

At this, Brad did open his mouth. "Would you shut up!" he spat. "You're an arrogant little punk!" Ignoring Wesker's obvious 'stop this right now' look, Brad continued, his feathers well and truly ruffled. "How did a guy like you get promoted anyway! You've got no respect for your superiors, you-"

"Yeah, and you have too much! You think none of us notice the amount of ass-kissing you do, chicken boy? It's fuckin' obvious. So don't come preachin' to me about-"

"Shut up!" Barry stepped forward from the shadows, positively seething. He glared between the two men, unsure which of the two he was most pissed at. He settled his eyes on Brad, who-considering his age-should know better than to be baited so easily. "Both of you, just shut up. Our comrades could be out there, injured, or worse. This isn't the time your schoolyard squabbles."

"Barry's right." said Chris. "We need to work together on this one. Joseph, come on, man, just lay off o' him for a bit, alright?" Joseph threw Brad one last glare before settling back into his seat, resigned. Brad, on the other hand, continued to fume.

"... Barry, I'd like you to come with me," said Wesker, after a long, uncertain pause, "we'll check out the site, see if it's the Bravo chopper or not. Jill, Chris, you'll be our lookout. You see anything suspicious, you shoot first and ask questions later. Don't forget where we are and what's happened to people here recently. We want to get to the root of these attacks, not become victims ourselves."

Brad grimaced; it had completely slipped his mind that those murders had happened up here. He found himself looking uncertainly towards the enshrouding darkness, now more paranoid than ever that something was out there. He pictured men with blood on their teeth and severed limbs in their hands. "... God..."

"What was that, Vickers?" asked Wesker sharply. Brad turned to him, startled. He hadn't realised he'd spoken aloud. Joseph sneered and muttered something to himself.

"Nothing, sir. I-I'm just worried about Bravo."

"As are we all..." agreed the Captain. He turned towards the clearing. A brief flicker of uncertainty washed over his face, but it was gone as soon as his feet touch the white mounds of frozen grass. Barry went next, followed by Jill and then Chris. Brad watched them as they disappeared-

(the shadows swallowed them up)

-into the forest.

An icy tension settled into the cockpit in their absence.

"You're not coming with me." said Joseph suddenly. "I don't give a rat's ass what Wesker said; I'm not having you latching onto me out there."

Brad whirled around in his seat, his delicate fingers clawed at the headrest as he threw Frost the filthiest look he could muster. Joseph took a long drag of a freshly lit cigarette, his eyes hard and determined. "I mean it." he went on. "You're a liability. Why do you think you're the only one out of us who isn't carrying a gun? Wesker knows he can't rely on you; you proved that much during target practice last week."

Brad flushed at the recollection; he hadn't been paying attention, hadn't been looking at where he was pointing the firearm, hadn't noticed when his finger pulled just a little too taught on the trigger. It was the only time Brad had seen Wesker lose his composure; the Captain had almost had a heart attack when the bullet struck the floor at his feet.

Pleased with himself, Joseph took one last, long drag of the cigarette before flicking it into Brad's direction. The pilot ducked out of the way and the butt landed somewhere near his feet. Joseph stood up and stretched, before heading outside, rifle poised and ready. Brad watched him from his seat, unsure of himself. A part of him agreed with his team-mate, but the other, more juvenile side of him, was determined to prove a point. Tossing his helmet and goggles into his seat, he hurried out into the bitter winds. He ignored the open door of the vehicle; no sane person would be out here in this kind of weather, at this time of the night. And even if they were, the likelihood of them being able to fly were infinitesimal.

"Wait!" called Brad. He couldn't see Joseph's figure, but the flashlight he was carrying surrounded the ground before him in a noticeable light. It paused before hurrying on. When Brad realised that his comrade was trying to lose him, he grew all the more determined and rushed to catch him up before the trees swallowed his circle of light into oblivion.

"Joseph!" called Brad again. "Stop being a dick! Wesker said to-" he paused when he realised that the beam from the flashlight was no longer moving ahead of him. Slowing down to a stroll, he approached the instrument. Joseph was not standing there with it. Brad was instantly both alarmed and terrified. He spun around, feeling suddenly vulnerable, like a child lost in the woods. His hands itched towards the radio at his belt; it was only the infantile sense of hurt ego that stopped him from snatching it up and contacting the Captain. He knew, in the pit of his stomach that Joseph was just messing around; he also knew that this time he needed to try to keep his composure for longer than sixty seconds.

"I know you're out there, Frost!" shouted Brad into the darkness. "You-you have the gall to call me a liability. We're here to help Bravo, and what are you doing? You're fu-fu-_messing _around!" When there was still no response, Brad huffed angrily and tore the flashlight up from the damp ground. "You're a dick, Frost!" he hissed. "You're a total, utter, complete DI-" Brad cried out when something grabbed him from behind. In his panic, he twisted his arm around, hitting out at whatever had a hold of him. His elbow connected with something, he hit at it again as the hands clutched fistfuls of his yellow vest. A pained grunt followed the third blow, and finally the fingers unwrapped themselves from his clothing.

Brad fell forwards, scrambling away. He gasped for air, eyes wide and panicked. When he turned to look over his shoulder, he saw Joseph standing there, holding his nose in his hands. Blood was pouring down his face from under his fingers. The beam from the flashlight cast ghoulish shadows across him, and Brad curled in on himself against a tree, still not quite sure what was happening.

"You fucking cock monkey!" was the first thing Joseph said when he took his hands away from his beaten and bloodied nose. "I think you broke my fuckin' nose!"

When his brain finally settled back into rational thought process, and Brad realised that his mystery assailant was Joseph, he felt a strong sense of unjust indignation. Stumbling back up to his feet, Brad threw his hands up in a flurry of frustration. "You're the one sneaking up on me!" he screeched, "You think it's funny, trying to scare me when we're on this kind of mission? What did you expect! I was defending myself!"

"I expected you to scream, not break my fucking nose, Chickenshit! I expected a bit of a laugh!"

"Fuck you!" spat Brad.

One only had to meet Bradley Vickers the once to know that, naturally, he was the least violent person you could ever expect to find. His usually pacifistic nature went out the window, however, whenever Joseph Frost was involved. The kid rubbed him up the wrong way. When he was around, Brad found himself wanting to break something (preferably the young man's face).

"You little runt. I'm gonna fuckin' kill you." said Joseph. He reached down to pick up his flashlight, attaching it back to its holster on his shoulder. He kept his eyes trained on Brad as he advanced towards him. "I'll make it look like another o' those murders. No-one will ever know. I'll cut you up, take big chunks of runty flesh out of you... Feed you to the wolves, maul you... devour you."

To his credit, Brad managed to stand his ground for a whole seventeen seconds, but then Joseph's shadow fell upon his small frame and he found himself bolting back towards the helicopter. He didn't stop, even when he heard Frost's bark of hysterical laughter, nor did he stop when he heard the distant shooting of a firearm.

It was the scream that brought him to a halt.

He looked back, barely able to make Joseph out in the darkness. But it hadn't been him who had cried out; the voice was female.

Somewhere in the mountains, Jill was shrieking for help.


	2. Chapter 2

It didn't take long for Brad and Joseph to find the rest of their team (and it would have taken less had Brad not been in such a panic and fled back towards the helicopter before changing his mind and catching Frost up). The screaming ended abruptly as they stumbled through the overgrowth and brambles to find themselves in another clearing. It was darker here, but moonlight still shone strong enough for the two of them to make out the mauled form of Jill Valentine crumpled up in the dirt.

Chris was standing by her side, jaw slack and eyes impossibly wide. Barry looked just as confused. Brad gazed around the faces of his team-mates, he wanted to say something; to ask what the hell had just happened, but it didn't seem appropriate. He looked back down at Jill; half of her face had been shredded. Blood had splashed the fallen leaves around her.

"Wha... what the fuck..?" it was Joseph.

Wesker tore his eyes away from the grisly scene. It was hard to tell if the captain was as upset as the rest of them about this, but his mouth seemed tighter, and his right temple was pulsing above his shades. Brad watched it throb, because it was better than looking down at Jill's ruined face and letting the reality of the situation sink in. "We were attacked." he said, voice uncharacteristically meek. "We were attacked and it killed her."

Chris let out a choked sob and stumbled forwards onto his knees. His hands trembled as he tried to cover his mouth and his eyes to make it stop, but it didn't. Brad had never really felt much of anything for Redfield, but in that moment all he wanted to do was put his arms around the younger man and comfort him. Barry got there first, laying a soft hand upon Chris' shoulder and squeezing. Chris only sobbed louder at that.

Joseph cleared his throat. "Sir... what attacked her?"

Wesker shook his head.

"... A fuckin' _dog_..." came Chris' strangled voice. "Came-came outta..." his voice cracked and he said no more. Barry looked up from the hand he had upon Redfield's shoulder, his eyes as wide as ever and now brimming brightly. "Didn't look like any dog I ever saw." he said. "It jumped out at us, took... took Jill down."

"But we heard shots!" said Brad. "You shot it, right?"

Barry didn't say anything for a moment and Brad wondered-for the second time that night-if a man like him was capable of losing it. "Like I said," he whispered, "it wasn't like any dog I ever saw."

"Jesus Christ, what's that supposed to mean?" asked Joseph, sounding panicked. "How the fuck did it not die if you shot at it? I counted maybe seven or eight shots, and ain't none o' you ever fuckin' missed before in your lives. So what the hell happened!"

"I don't know what fucking happened, Frost!" snapped Barry. "It was dark, it took us by surprise. It attacked Jill, we fired at it, and then it disappeared; just ran off back into the woods."

"How can a dog run off after being shot at!" retorted Joseph.

Barry took a step forward, baring his teeth. "I _don't know_!" he seethed.

Joseph opened his mouth to say something else, but he paused when he heard the howling. Chris shot to his feet, his gun already out in front of him as he stepped away from Jill's body. He twisted around, trying to pinpoint the direction the noises were coming from. "It's still out there." he hissed. "It's still alive out there. How is that possible!"

"It's not possible." muttered Wesker.

"Well it sure as hell seems like it is, _sir_!" said Chris, tone dripping with distaste.

At the disturbingly close sound of rustling leaves, Joseph tore out his gun and fired in the direction of the noise. The shot was followed by a wounded yelp, and then another howl, and then another, and another. Brad paled; whatever was out there, whatever it was that had torn Jill's face off, had them surrounded. He inched closer to Joseph, barely managing to restrain himself from grabbing the other S.T.A.R.S officer and pleading to be protected. To their side, Chris' entire demeanour had changed; he was wild, his eyes red and swollen and beastly. He raised his gun and started to fire blindly into the thickets. Startled, Joseph followed suit, shooting out at the darkness with a panicked look on his face. Brad wanted to tell him that he should wait until he saw a target, but that would mean that those _things _would be closer, so he squeezed Frost's arm and nodded when their eyes locked.

"Stop it! Both of you, conserve your ammunition, stop-" But even as Wesker started to dish out his orders, he spotted another of those dogs bounding toward them from across the clearing. He took out his pistol and fired, hitting the beast in the centre of its head. Its exposed skull made a horrible wet, slushing sound as its body hit the ground and stilled. Chris turned to look in Wesker's direction; there were more of the things heading their way. He started to move, firing off shot after shot as he did so.

Brad watched him walk past Wesker, the creatures falling one after the other as he continued to stalk towards them. And Brad was reminded of the old Westerns, where the antagonist and the protagonist would stroll towards one another for the climatic face-off. He used to get excited when he watched those kinds of films as a child, but now, as he watched Chris disappear into the trees, he felt sick and horrified.

"Jesus! There are too many of them, where are they all coming from!" cried Joseph as he started to reload his weapon. Brad followed him as he took several steps away from the thickets. Above them, through the canopy of dead leaves, the moonlight shone down like a spotlight.

"Redfield!" Wesker was calling out between each shot he fired. "Redfield, get back here!"

Barry had yet to fire his gun, but he did so as he too made his way towards the thick tree lining. Wesker reached out and grabbed at his arm. "No, Barry, no. You can't go after him." he said. But Barry wasn't listening, he tore his arm free and carried on, picking up the pace until he too disappeared. All that was left of his existence was the occasional shot from his firearm, but they soon died down in the distance.

It was just the three of them now, and the howling continued from all sides.

Wesker waited until Jospeh had reloaded before he took care of his own stock. "We have to move," he said, shooting another of the creatures, (Barry had been right, they weren't like any normal dog), "we're gonna die if we stay here."

Joseph fired several rounds into the thickets. "Where the hell are we gonna go?" he called out over the blasts of their guns.

Brad perked up then. "We have to go back to the chopper!" he shouted. "We can get away if we-"

Wesker turned sharply to look at him. "No," he said, "Chris and Barry are out there, and we still have to find Bravo team. We're not leaving this place until we do."

"But we can't stay here!" Brad insisted.

"No, no, we can't. We have to move."

"But where!" asked Joseph.

Wesker didn't answer, instead he started to run. A few of the dogs dived towards him from out of the tree line, but he shot them down with ease. Joseph stumbled after him, shooting in every direction with a frantic hope that he'd hit something eventually. For a moment, Brad's knees locked, and he couldn't move, but then he heard something snap at his heels and saw what it was that had killed Jill more than clearly enough to give him nightmares for the rest of his life. Kicking at its head as hard as he could, he hurried after the fleeing forms of his team-mates.

Beams of light shone in the distance through the trees, as if in offering of safety. It was then that Brad understood where Wesker was leading them as the Captain hurried on ahead, shooting at anything that moved. The Spencer Estate was well known among residents of Raccoon City; countless tales had been spun about the demise of its architect, each one more elaborate and ridiculous than the last. The mansion was sitting right in the middle of what had become a crime scene over the past few weeks, and yet despite this, S.T.A.R.S had never been sent in to investigate.

Wesker broke through into the overgrown garden of the estate, the flood of light cast him in an almost Heavenly glow, and even as he continued to shoot at the creatures chasing his team-mates, he looked angelic. Brad found himself not running towards the doors of the mansion, but to Wesker's side, as if being by him brought him more safety than the bricks of the estate.

"Vickers, inside!" barked Wesker as he fired off another shot. Brad turned to look at where he was aiming and saw that Joseph was still out there, a look of utter horror on his face.

"They're behind me! They're behind me!" Frost was shouting, stumbling-rather than running-towards them. Behind him Brad could see teeth gleaming from snarling jaws. Another shot was fired. "Vickers!" said Wesker again, "Get inside _now_!"

Brad made to move towards the doors, but he caught sight of Frost falling into the dirt, his eyes going wide and a terrified cry spilling from his lips. There was a single dog at his heels, and the moment Frost went down it was upon him, snarling and barking and frothing devilishly. Joseph had his assault rifle up as a guard, pushing it at the monster's throat as it tried to tear at his own. "Captain!" he cried out. "I can't fire-I can't hit it! _Please_!"

"Frost, I can't get a good hit, it's too close to you-raise your gun up!" Wesker called back, his voice strained ever so slightly. "I can't see it enough to hit it!"

Brad bit his lip, he could see it just fine. "Sir..." he said, "maybe I can shoot it?"

Wesker threw him a glare. "Get inside." he said again.

"HELP ME, CAPTAIN!"

It was in that moment, when the dog was mere centimetres away from Joseph's throat, that Brad saw the insufferable little prick for what he was; a kid, an annoying, stuck up little brat-who was now on the verge of having his jugular torn into. Wesker's hands were trembling and his aim had gone to Hell in the last ten seconds; he wasn't going to be able to hit that creature. With an odd sense of courage (or at least it felt odd to Brad), Vickers rushed towards his fallen comrade and did the only thing he could think of; he booted the snarling dog as hard as he could. The steel-toe of his combat boot cracked harshly against the feral mutt and it yelped as it tumbled onto its side. Joseph found his footing instantly and fired at the creature before it had a chance to recover. He turned to Brad then, a look of utter disbelief on his face. "You-"

"Both of you, get inside this instant. That's an order!" came Wesker's voice behind them.

Joseph stalked towards the estate, visibly shaken and stiff. Brad, on the other hand, found himself walking a little straighter-a little _prouder_-than usual as he followed his fellow S.T.A.R.S into the foyer of the Spencer Estate.


End file.
